Doubt has her pursing her lips. “You know, most of this is still a rumor. You could still get out of this.”
Her words widen the geyser in my confidence. Then I think of the recent attention I’ve received and the hope that I can honestly tell my mom I’m too busy to babysit next Friday night because I’m going out.
“I’m not trying to meddle, but have you considered what happens if this doesn’t achieve what you want it to? What if Pax messes up and drags you down? What if he starts dating Candace again? And what about Candace? Are we just going to pretend like she’s going to leave this alone? She is guaranteed to do something crazy.”
I have the same questions and concerns, but mine are largely overshadowed by ones of Mike and what my feelings for him are and whether I’d be able to weather another breakup with him if things didn’t work out. I think of the single journal that sits between my mattress and box springs, apart from all the others that have been filled and sit in chronological order in my closet because it’s filled with letters and entries I wrote to and about Mike after he left. Ones that professed my love and swore I’d never stop liking him. They felt significant then—both therapeutic and painful to confess all the feelings that were riddling my thoughts and emotions. I never had the confidence to send them though and I never could bring myself to throw them away, so under my mattress they’ve lived for the past year and a half, reminding me of the old story “The Princess and the Pea,” because though the notebook is less than a quarter of an inch thick, there are nights where I swear I can feel its presence and the weight of my words.
“I need to do this,” I tell her. “I need to figure out if I still like Mike, and if not, what I do want. I need to branch out. My life has been like a small snow globe—predictable and safe. I just want to do something epic and fun and crazy, and Paxton knows everyone. He’s the most popular guy at Brighton. He gets invited to all of the best parties, and I know we could still go without a fake relationship, but being there as his girlfriend is going to be a full world apart. I spent half of the summer babysitting Dylan, who didn’t even need to be babysat and had more friends than me, and the other half binge-watching TV, hanging with you and Lincoln, and working. I need to see what’s beyond the glass.”
“I’m sorry if you’ve been feeling like a third wheel.” Her eyes slowly track my features reading the arch of my brow, the pinch of my eyes, the line of my mouth—she knows me better than I know myself, and I can see the regret start to etch across her features because I can read her just as easily.
I shake my head. “I don’t want you to feel bad or sorry for me. I’m happy for you and Lincoln. Scratch that, I’m ecstatic for you and Lincoln. And I’m not miserable or looking to have a pity party over Mike and being single. I’ve been there, done that. I just want to have some fun and adventure and do something that pushes me outside of my norms. Never in a million years would I be expected to date Pax, which is why this is guaranteed to be crazy. You had a stalker and saved a dolphin, and Chloe and Nessie went on an epic road trip across the entire country and got lost in the desert, and Olivia found her mom and opened her heart to this place, and then Rose was a badass and got to play a detective. I want that, and if it’s in the form of having a bad bitch come at me, then I’m ready. I need this.”
A smile breaks Rae’s serious demeanor. “A bad bitch,” she repeats.
I grin. “It might only last a few weeks, and maybe Paxton will go back to Candace, but that’s what’s so great about this situation—it’s fully platonic. I can tell him if he’s being dumb, and I don’t have to call him every night, and I don’t have to worry about looking nice for him or anything else.”
“You know you’re probably going to have to kiss my brother, right?” she winces.
I cringe as well. “I already did. It wasn’t good.”
Raegan’s laughter is so loud it hurts my ears. “I hope you told him that.”
I touch my lower lip. “I plan to. I’m pretty sure he bruised my lip.”
She laughs even harder and then takes my hand in hers. “Okay. I get it, and I’m in. We’ve got this. But, if you want people to believe you’re really dating him, then we have to go tonight. You have to smile and stand next to him and probably kiss him again, and make it look believable.” She cringes. “And I don’t want to hear any of the details.” She shakes her head. “Unless it’s about you coaching him on how to kiss—that I want to hear all the details about so I can mock him for years to come.” Without waiting for my reply, she pulls out her phone. “I’ve got the address. Trust me when I say being vague is going to be your best friend when people ask you any questions. We can practice on our way there.”
“Do you really think people are going to ask me many questions?”
“Have you met our friend circle?”
My shoulders slowly fall as I laugh. “I feel like a jerk for lying to them.”
She scrunches her nose. “I get it. I felt like I was lying to everyone when I liked Lincoln. It was awkward, and sometimes it was really hard, but you’re not doing this to deceive or hurt anyone. Once this
